


Small Comfort

by KaenOkami



Series: Crona Week 2016 [1]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Babies, Childhood Memories, Creepy Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Lullabies, Pet Names, Potions, Sleep, Spells & Enchantments, as close to fluff as this family gets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenOkami/pseuds/KaenOkami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Medusa understands it, most new mothers tend to be run ragged by their children at night. However, with magic, questionable lullabies, and an occasionally useful partner, she thinks she'll be able to manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to DollyPop for helping me out with the Russian!

_“If you would seek the true terror in the night, throw away your library of thrillers and gothic romances and turn back to your childhood. There is no darkness quite so potent as that behind the apparently innocent nursery rhyme.”_  
\- Thomas Anderson, _Look To The West_

~0~

Frequent all-nighters were something Medusa had gotten used to decades ago, when she had started to throw herself completely into her research and experimentation. Technically, the reason she was being kept up these recent nights was a part of both, and an integral part, at that. She didn’t mind losing sleep, as she had long since learned how to do without that, but it was quite annoying to have to lose time that could have been better spent in the lab. Even more so since this was the second time in three hours that she was being pulled away from her work.

But still, she put on a gentle smile and spoke in her sweetest tone as she stepped into her wailing baby’s room. “I know, _moráki mou,_ I know,” she lilted. “You're still not feeling good, are you?”

Crona (who for the past few days had been learning for the first time what it felt like to be sick and not liking it one bit) was still too young to understand what she was asking, but she had never thought that an infant’s face could so clearly express, _What the_ hell _do you think?_

“Poor thing...This must be the worst you’ve ever felt, isn’t it?” she said with a smirk. “All right, enough fussing, come here.” She bent to pick them up, careful not to poke them with the oral syringe in her hand. “Your cold will pass in another couple days, but in the meantime, Mama’s got something that will make you feel much better.”

She settled them into the crook of one arm, and popped the cap off the tip with her other hand. Crona didn't seem to notice when she slipped the opening into their mouth, but the second the first drops of healing potion hit their tongue, they let out a particularly shrill cry and tried to twist away from the sickly sweet taste. “Oh, no, you don't,” Medusa murmured, squirting another little bit in after they'd swallowed the first. “I know you don't know it yet, but this is the best medicine you're going to get.”

She pushed the plunger down completely to get out the last of the small dose, and then set the syringe aside and held the baby tighter with her now-free arm. “Don't spit it all out on me, now,” she said, gently holding their face so they couldn't do just that. “That's not going to help either of us.”

Once all the potion had disappeared down their throat, Crona stared up at their mother with such a clear look of betrayal on their face that she had to snicker. “Yes, Mama’s just so horrible, isn't she?” she said teasingly. “I understand, though - useful as they are, these potions are vile stuff, aren't they? Unfortunately for you, I didn't inherit your grandmother’s healing hands, so like I said, mixing up potions is the best I can do.”

The clearest childhood memories she had of her mother all involved blood and combat, shadow and fire - her favorites, of course. But though they were somewhat less distinct, harder to remember, she could still call back a few memories of comfort as well, of warm golden eyes and a soft voice and all her pain instantly fading away under her mother’s hands. She had had only had a few years to experience that, but it had been the most soothing thing she had ever felt, and she valued it even more as an adult, now that she could look at it from an analytical standpoint. 

Whether she had meant to or not, in doing things like that, her mother had started early on in establishing a solid bond of trust and respect between herself and her children. Medusa had known from the start that she would absolutely have to replicate that in some way between herself and Crona. (As a child, she would have dived headlong into hell if only to hear Mother praise her for it, and she would expect no less devotion from her own offspring.) But then she had realized that she didn’t have much of an idea how to do that, having never had to contend with anyone so young before and knowing that kind behavior didn't exactly come naturally to her. So she had decided that the best course of action, for the first two or three years of Crona’s life, was to avoid making any mistakes by acting on her own instincts, and instead do her best to imitate her mother.

“Of course, our situation is far different. If she were alive to do it, your grandmother would certainly kill me for what I'm planning to do with you, _moráki,”_ she mused. The older witch had always had a puzzling urge to protect with her life all that was weak and helpless, and Crona certainly fit that description. “It’s lucky for us that she’s long dead, isn’t it?”

Crona couldn’t yet understand what she was saying, of course, but they still wriggled and whimpered in her arms, looking ready to start crying all over again. “Shh, shh, no tears, now,” she cooed. Talking to them usually helped to soothe them. They liked the sound of their mother’s voice. (And she rather enjoyed it, too; it was like thinking out loud to one of her snakes.) “The potion works fast, so you won't hurt any more tonight. Mama made sure of it. You'll feel all better in just a couple days, and tonight you can get some more sleep, won't that be nice?” 

As she spoke, the hand cupped around the back of Crona's head glowed pale blue, and in a few moments, their whimpers quieted, and they settled unprotestingly into her arms. “See, that's good...Would you believe that your father laughs at me when I use calming or sleeping spells on you? He says I'm ‘cheating’ at being a parent; but who cares what he says? Not us. He's always got an excuse not to come help with you, anyway.” She snorted derisively at the thought of the partner she hadn’t seen in months. She couldn’t exactly blame him for his extended absences (he was a scientist, too, and he could lose himself in his research as easily and for as long as she could), but she didn’t particularly enjoy being deprived of him. “Well, you won't be able to join in just yet, but don't worry, I'll give him a piece of my mind for you when he decides he wants to drop by again.”

Crona wasn't listening to her; they were absorbed in trying to bat at the end of her braid, babbling softly as they did. For the moment, her words were just pleasant background noise. Medusa smiled. “There's a good boy…You'll sleep for me now, won't you? I’m going to put you back down now, okay? Okay…” 

She bent to set them back down in the crib, but almost the moment she did, Crona cried out in protest and started frantically grabbing at her shirt, trying to cling on to her. Sighing, she straightened up and held them close again. “All right, all right, I won't - _Ow!”_ Grimacing and wondering once again how she could teach Crona to stop doing that all the time, she detached her child’s hand from her braid as gently as she could and then flipped the braid over her shoulder. “Mama’s hair is not a toy. And I still don't understand how something as tiny as you can yank so _hard.”_

It seemed that she was right back to where she’d started. She had learned in the past few months that the only thing her child loved more than their mother’s voice was being held in her arms, and they looked just as nervous as before at the prospect of being put down and left alone. “You're not going to let me try that again, are you?” she murmured, starting to rock them to keep them calm. “You're going to start being clingy again tonight? So what are we going to do now, hm?” 

The idea of just using sleeping spells crossed her mind, but unfortunately for her, they were meant to be used weakly and very sparingly on very young children, for fear of negative side effects, and that way they always had to be used in conjunction with something else. So, she thought, it was time to return to another fallback she’d learned from her parents, that worked almost as effectively. The more prominent memories were of her mother’s low, soothing voice, singing in slow Greek. But tonight, for whatever reason, it was the throaty baritone of her father that she remembered. She hadn’t heard his songs that often, but she had favored a particular one, and she had taken a lot of trouble to remember it.

“Do you remember this, too, _moráki mou?”_ she crooned. _“Tili tili bom, zakroy glaza skoree, kto-to hodit za oknom, i stuchitsya v dveri.”_

Though they were starting to droop somewhat, Crona's eyes were as focused as an infant’s could be on their mother’s face, transfixed by her voice. _See, you like this, don't you?_ she thought, smiling. _“Tili tili bom, krichit nochnaya ptitsa, o uzhe probalsaya v dom, k tem komu ne spitsya. On idet...on uzhe...blisko.”_

Maybe one day she’d teach her child one of the dozens of languages she knew, just to test how well they would be able to learn. Probably she would try Greek, would favor her mother’s native tongue. But for tonight, she would use her father’s. _“Tili tili bom, ty slyshish kto-to ryadom? Pritailsya za uglom, i pronzaet vzglyadom. Tili tili bom, vse skroet noch nemaya…”_

It was clearly becoming harder for Crona to keep their eyes open, and she could feel them relaxing in her arms. Not much longer now. _“Za toboy kradetsya on, i vot-vot poymaet. On idet...On uzhe...blisko,”_ she finished, stroking their soft hair as they finally closed their eyes and went still, her fingertips glowing purple with the very faintest sleeping spell she could bring up as she did. “Shhh...Can't have you waking right back up again the second I put you down, now, can I?” she whispered, rocking them more slowly.

“No, we can't,” hissed a voice from directly over her shoulder.

Immediately, instinctively, Medusa spun around, holding Crona tightly to her chest with one arm and summoning a vector arrow with the other. She stopped short of lopping off a head, however, when she recognized her unexpected visitor. “You are an _idiot,”_ she growled from between clenched teeth. “What made you think you could sneak up on me like that? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you anyway just for being so rock _stupid.”_

Her partner smiled, holding his arms up in a show of innocence, unfazed by the arrow mere centimeters from his throat. He looked far too amused by her reaction, the bastard. “Because you love me?”

“I said a _good_ reason.”

“Because I came to see if you wanted my help with your research? Or your child?”

“That’s better, I suppose.” She retracted the arrow and wrapped her arm back around Crona (who, thankfully, had only murmured in their sleep in response to their father’s interruption), and resumed stroking her child’s hair, now less to keep them asleep and more to keep herself calm. Being caught off guard happened so rarely, but it always set her on edge. _“Halyavshchik,_ it's about time you came back to see us. You had better have just gotten here, because if you've just been hanging around listening to me - “

“Now, now, must you always assume the worst of me? I came in a few minutes ago and simply followed that beautiful voice I heard.”

“Flattery doesn't get you anywhere, darling,” Medusa said, smirking anyway. 

“And you're right, it is about time I came back to see you,” her partner went on, his smile fading into a look of concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday.”

He rolled his eyes. “For more than twenty minutes?”

Four days ago, then, but who was counting? She'd heard of humans who had gone for over two weeks without sleep, and they hadn't even needed to use the potions or spells that she had at her disposal. “Does it matter? I'll be fine, I'm used to this.”

“You know I don't buy that. You’re going to burn out if you’re not careful. And before you tell me to worry about myself, remember that I have a safety net of literally hundreds of subordinates to fall back on at all times if I overwork myself, and all you have is me. And most of the time, not even that.” He stepped closer to her, toying with a lock of her hair and looking critically at the faint shadows under her eyes. “Let's just both go to bed now, so I can make sure you _get some rest.”_

“And the next time your son wakes up, _you’ll_ take care of him?” she asked, indicating the baby in her arms with a tilt of her head. 

As she expected, that made him pause, but to his credit it was only for a moment. “Of course. You sleep, I’ll take care of everything.” For the first time since he’d shown up, he turned his attention to Crona, and tentatively smiled. “Have you been giving your mother trouble, _kawaii kozou?”_ he asked, reaching down and gently rubbing his child’s head. “You'd better grow out of that quickly, you know.”

“Shh, I just got him back to sleep, you fool,” she admonished, not without affection. She turned and laid Crona back down in the crib, right next to their stuffed rabbit, and a small sigh of relief escaped her when this time they didn’t stir in the slightest. _There, not so bad being out of my arms, is it?_

“Who says cheaters never prosper, eh?” her partner muttered, smiling again, as they slipped out of the room and closed over the door, heading down the hall to Medusa’s bedroom. “I didn’t need to see everything to know you’ve been piling on the magic.”

“Oh, please. You can’t deny that if you had my power, you’d be doing exactly the same thing. You wouldn’t even hold back like I do.” She turned to look up at the man by her side, and couldn’t stop a smile of her own from playing on her lips. “It’s about time you came back to me. Any longer and I might have started to forget what you look like, to say nothing of your son. By the way, you’ll want to tie your hair back before you go to hold him,” she added, lightly tugging on one of the long black locks that fell over her partner’s shoulders, looking even darker against his pale skin. “Or you might get it yanked out.”

“You should take your own advice,” he said, snickering. “Pretty as it is, your braid must be the easiest target in the world.” When he followed her into her room, his eyes began flicking from his lover to the large bed at the back of the room. “And speaking of pretty things...”

“Not tonight, _halyavshchik,”_ Medusa cut him off, lying down and undoing her braid. “Try again when you’ve earned it.”

“For once I wasn’t thinking of that!” he protested as he slid under the blankets beside her. “I was going to ask, what language was that you were singing in before? What did the words mean?”

“Russian - you didn’t recognize it? I learned it from my father...I can translate for you if you like.” He nodded, and she leaned in closer, taking his face in her hand and locking her eyes with his. _“Tili tili bom, close your eyes faster. Someone’s walking by the window, and knocks on the door. Tili tili bom, the birds of the night scream. He already came into the house, where no one sleeps. He is coming...he is already...close.”_

Smirking faintly at his unsettled expression, she lightly traced his jawline with her index finger, stopping at his chin. _“Tili tili bom, you hear someone near you. Peeking around the corner, following you with his gaze. Tili tili bom, the night will keep this secret. He will grab you from behind, and he will steal you. He is coming...he is already..._ close.”

There was about a second of silence before her partner demanded to know, “What the _hell_ kind of _lullaby_ is _that?”_

She snickered. “Mother never liked Father’s songs much, but my sisters and I loved them. This was my favorite one, but his favorite was about how you should be careful where you sleep, because if you’re not a wolf will come out of nowhere, bite your stomach out, and drag you off into the forest for dinner.”

“Fantastic. And you understood what he was saying, as young as you were?”

“We had to ask for a translation when Mother wasn’t around to hear and tell him off for scaring us. She shouldn’t have worried, we could take it.” Well, Shaula couldn’t half the time, but she hardly counted. “It’’s like he used to tell us, _Chleny etogo semeystva sil’neye russkoy zimy_ : The members of this family are stronger than the Russian winter.”

“Is that so? Do you think he was right?”

“I suppose so. Neither of my parents survived as long as they did by being weak. And my father also used to tell me...” Medusa’s smirk broadened as she wrapped her arms around her partner’s shoulders, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “Never to lower myself to a shameless, despicable man like you, _halyavshchik.”_

“Didn't listen very well, did you?” he teased, running long fingers through her loose hair. “That pet name, you said it means ‘beloved,’ right?”

“Hm, something along those lines.” With the steady beat of her partner’s heart in her ear, she allowed herself to close her eyes and relax. “Good night, darling.”

“Good night.”

~0~

“...Wake up. Come _on,_ wake _up.”_

“Mmhrf? What is it?”

“Your son’s awake again and I'm taking you up on your offer. Get up and go.”

“Huh? Oh…Is he crying again?”

“No, he's singing his father’s eternal praises, now _go._ Bond. Be a parent.”

“...Why can't you do it? He came out of you.”

“That's right, because _you_ pumped him into me.”

“Because you _told_ me to!”

“Well, I didn't hear any disagreement from you, now, did I? The potion I gave him is good for about six hours; it sounds like he's just hungry. You know where everything is. Get moving.”

“Just...give me a few more minutes... _Agh!_ What are you kicking me out of bed for?!”

“I did not _kick_ you, I _shoved_ you. Didn’t you say you came here to help me out?”

“Yes, with an _arrow_ at my neck...Fine, I’ll do it, you just go back to sleep…”

Still not opening her eyes, Medusa pulled the blankets her partner had left unattended over her (wondering idly if he would try to take them back once he returned to find them stolen), and only had to wait a minute before she heard his voice, muffled but still audible, over the monitor on her nightstand.

_“Sate, kawaii kozou, dou shita? Hisashiburi da ne...”_

Medusa wasn’t sure exactly how comforting he would be to Crona, as they hadn’t seen each other in so long. But if she was going to include their father in their life even to the small extent that he would be able to be there, then better that they have an awkward relationship at first than a nonexistent one and better that she start them both off early. There were benefits for her, as well: even half-asleep, she was already starting to plan out all the work she would get done in the lab, now that she could palm Crona off on their father. And if he wanted yet another sample from her body in exchange (it still made her laugh to remember how excited he, whose research was all for the sake of gaining immortality for himself, had been to find out that his new companion happened to have an immortal body infused with magic), then that would be just fine. They were partners, after all, she would help him as much as he helped her. 

_But for now, the both of you are on your own, my darlings,_ she thought, sinking back into comfortable sleep.

~0~

**Author's Note:**

> The song featured here is an actual Russian song called "Tili Tili Bom," which you can listen to with this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDMmj5WgB8c


End file.
